Final testimony
Chapter 2
Court was in session.
Connie reached the courtroom of Department 24 of the Superior Court and Mike was already in the middle of his questioning with the last witness. The trial was winding down. Once the defense completes the cross of the same witness, both sides would then begin closing arguments.
Upon Connie's appearance, the seated young woman had deftly picked up her coat which had been laid out on the adjourning seat. Connie inconspicuously sat in the newly opened space in the third row of the gallery. The woman didn't acknowledge Connie's presence, but merely stared straight ahead, closely watching the trial.
With his back to her, Mike was unaware that Connie had slipped in as he was concentrated on the witness's testimony.
An average-looking middle aged woman, witness Mary Harrison had been the driver behind defendant Tim Brantley's vehicle when he had allegedly plowed into the victim before speeding quickly away. Through testimony Mike had her pinpoint the time and place this incident had occurred.
"...and as you continued driving west on Hylan Boulevard approaching Greenridge Avenue from the east," Mike questioned, "did you see anything unusual?"
Mary nodded, "Yes, the car ahead of me was driving in a very erratic manner."
"Objection!" James Granick, defense attorney stood.
Connie glanced over at the defense table and remembered Granick from the Marty Winston case, the one where Winston almost shot Mike.
The top of Granick's bald head gleamed from the lights above, "the witness is not an expert on people's behavior with their vehicles."
"Overruled," said the Judge.
Mike acknowledged the judge's ruling, knowing he had to get the witness to be more specific, "Ms. Harrison, could you please explain for the court what you mean by erratic behavior?"
"Certainly," Mary was looking more relaxed, "The car was weaving all over the road, crossing the center line and going clear over to the left. Then it would go back to the right and one time it ran clear off the highway on the right side."
"So what did you do then?" Mike inquired, looking very interested.
"When there was a wide place in the road about halfway down the State highway, I passed right by him," Mary responded.
"You passed right by him?" Mike asked, urging her to elaborate.
"I sure did," she held her head high, "and I remembered being very nervous; I didn't want the driver to swerve into me."
"Objection!" Granick stated, "Move to strike everything regarding as to why she passed the car."
"Sustained."
Mike didn't seemed bothered, "Alright, Ms. Harrison, after you passed the car, what did you do then?"
"I went home and went to bed."
An awkward pause.
"What I meant by that question," Mike patiently tried again, "is what did you do immediately afterwards, regarding the vehicle that you passed, if anything?"
"Oh!" Mary was embarrassed, "Sorry…I looked in my rear view mirror and I saw the car continue swerving, left and then right. All of a sudden I saw something really dark...it was like...like a shadow, cross in front of that car's headlights and then the right headlight of the car seemed to go out."
There were murmurings in the gallery,
Slam dunk, thought Mike, although he knew there was no such thing. But this could be the first.
"You witnessed the impact from the rearview mirror?" Mike asked.
"Yes."
"Did you know what caused the headlight to go out?"
"Not then," Mary claimed, "but after thinking a bit, I had an inkling of what the dark shadow could have been."
"And what was that?" Mike asked.
"Objection!" Granick stood, "Question is argumentative. Calls for a conclusion from the witness."
"Sustained," the Judge said, "Witness can testify only to what she saw."
"Your Honor," argued Mike, "the witness certainly has the right to interpret what had occurred, after all, she was there!"
The Judge considered the matter.
"She can testify only to what she saw, and we will let the jury do the interpretation," determined the Judge.
Granick gave Mike a smug look, as Mike turned back to his witness. Connie knew Mike's strategy would be to leave the jurors the impression that a figure of a person had darted in front of Brantley's car.
"So you saw a black shadow of something appear suddenly on the street?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And regarding this dark figure who darted out…"
"Your Honor!" Granick immediately stood, obviously frustrated with Mike's mention of dark figure.
"Mr. Cutter!" the Judge reprimanded.
"I apologize, Your Honor," Mike paused and then inspiration hit him, "Ms. Harrison, what was the approximate height of this dark, unknown thing that you saw come out of nowhere?"
"The height?" Mary repeated, as she thought it over, "um…I would say...roughly six feet tall," she testified.
Mike looked pleased.
Clever, Connie thought, Mike got away with it after all. He knew the mention of 'six feet' would give the impression that the dark unknown figure was a person.
"I see," Mike nodded and then looked directly at her, "And then what happened? Did it, this dark blob, make it across the street?"
"Objection," Granick stood, "Making it across the street implies it was something alive that could move on its own accord, and not merely an obstruction in the road."
"But Ms. Harrison is testifying to what she saw, and what she saw was something that went across the street...she saw that, which is what defense counsel insisted she testify to... did I understand that correctly?" Mike cleverly pointed out.
Granick threw his hands up in frustration.
"Overruled," the Judge said.
"Again, Ms. Harrison, " Mike inquired, "Did it, this dark unknown thing make it across the street?"
"No... once it got hit, it had stopped moving," Mary looked certain.
Mike paused to allow that point to absorb in the minds of the jurors.
"And that's when you wrote down the license plate; is that correct?"
Mary was smiling, "Yes, I figured the police might want the information."
Mike produced people's evidence four; Mary's notebook with the license plate number written on the paper. She identified the letters and numbers as her writing while Mike identified through DMV records that a red Mustang was registered to the uncle of the defendant.
"Thank you, Ms. Harrison, no further questions." Mike confidently stated as he turned and started to walk to his table. Now facing the gallery, there was a satisfied expression on Mike's face; the witness had held up well. One more day, two at the most, and this trial would be over.
Connie's heart suddenly began to beat faster as he subconsciously scanned the rows of people in the courtroom. As was his habit, he always liked to gauge reactions from the people observing. At last his eyes stopped on the section she was seated.
And she knew exactly when he had spotted her.
Her clear gaze seemed to pin him to his spot. Mike no longer aware of the spectators; they seemed to have dissipated in his mind as his eyes were only on Connie.
"Mr. Cutter?" the Judge broke into Mike's thoughts, "unless you've just spotted a hippopotamus charging through the courtroom, is there a reason you are standing there?"
Some people from the gallery grinned at the Judge's choice of words.
Mike's expression showed he recovered, as his face was once more placid, "My apologies, Your Honor," he said, as he made his way back to his chair. He turned once to look quickly at where he last saw Connie, his piercing blue eyes drinking in the sight of her amidst the gallery. Then silently he turned back and took his seat.
Connie took a secret delight to know she affected him that way.
It wasn't too long after that when the Judge banged on his gavel, signaling the end of today's session. Mike stood and gathered up his papers. When he turned around again, he was disappointed to note that Connie had already left.
The only comfort that Mike took was that the case was going exactly his way.
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The unpredictability of the New York City winds swirled about as Mike arrived at his apartment complex. This time, however, the opposing gusts did not bother him, for he seemed more aware of the rustling green leaves of trees and puffy clouds up above.
Mike was feeling optimistic. It had been a great day in court.
He was actually whistling as he entered his sparsely furnished apartment. His apartment mainly consisted of a pair of barstools, a simple love sofa and a sturdy coffee table. The only notable piece of furniture was a quaint oak writing desk with hutch, set aside in one corner of his apartment in front of the window. It had been passed on to him by his mom.
Placing his briefcase next to the kitchen counter, Mike wandered over to the mini bar and poured a glass of wine for himself. He had stopped whistling, and was instead, reliving the moment when he saw Connie in the gallery earlier this afternoon. It had caught him by surprise. His misgivings about the two of them growing apart had been swept away, for her appearance in court showed him that she was supporting him, right?
He turned on the television as he sat on the couch. Somehow he couldn't absorb the words coming from the newscaster. Then the program went to a commercial. It was an advertisement for some type of law office firm specializing in personal injury. Humph! The two lawyers in that commercial looked more like a couple of ambulance chasers, Mike thought, with a twinge of a smile.
But the legal reminder made Mike yearn to talk to Connie, especially since he hadn't spoken to her all day. Though this was an easy case, he still wanted to discuss with her his courtroom strategies and perhaps get a different perspective of what he should look out for when the defense cross examines his witness tomorrow.
So after considering all this, he pondered whether it would be so strange if he called her at her apartment now. Mike looked at his watch- it wasn't even that late. In fact, he thought wistfully, it was still early enough that maybe they could discuss it over coffee at their favorite coffeeshop.
His eyes darted over to his Blackberry on the coffee table. How would she react to him calling her this late from his apartment? he speculated, and then more hesitancy entered his mind...what if she rejected the invitation for coffee?
But as he continued staring at his phone, he wondered what was wrong with him, why the hesitancy. He was always the type to take chances, even when the odds were against him. Or especially when they were.
Besides he talked to her everyday, so how was this any different?
Mike reached over and grabbed his BlackBerry and found her number on his phone list. He pushed the button quickly before he changed his mind. He heard her number dialing.
Pick up, Connie, pick up, he thought as he held his breath.
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